Perversions
by mnemosynesque
Summary: Ginny’s Valentine’s Day admirer is insulting and anonymous. And she likes it fine. Oneshot.


A/N: Don't let the name fool you… It's not quite as racy as you little perverts are hoping, but it should be slightly… interesting.

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**Perversions**

Mnemosynesque

Summary: Ginny's Valentine's Day admirer is insulting (and anonymous). And she likes it fine.

Rating: T, occasional vulgarities and slight sexual stuff.

Disclaimer: Plot is mine, characters are not.

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Ginny's fingers drummed idly on the heavy wood of the breakfast table. All around her were blushing boys, girls fawning over said boys, and (by far the worst component of her morning) bright pink as far as the eye could see. Of course, it was February the fourteenth: Valentine's Day.

Ginny had always been a sensible girl, and her unfailing logic had proven (time and time again) that Valentine's Day was an idiotic and completely unnecessary holiday. Why it was simply based off an arcane holiday filled with randy young men chasing around fertile young ladies; while Ginny wasn't adverse to a little sexual perversion, this sugary holiday was neither the place nor time for it.

Sighing loudly (for what must have been the thousandth time that morning) only garnered amused looks from both Ron and Harry.

"Now Ginny, we know how much you love Valentine's Day, but please try to contain your excitement. I-- hey!" Only Harry's Quiddich-quick reflexes saved him from getting hit in the face by a piece of meticulously buttered toast.

"Oh, do stuff it Harry. Besides--" she glanced above and saw the swooping owls invade the Hall, "I think you'll have _plenty_ to be excited over in a few seconds."

True to her word, not ten seconds later Ginny was rewarded by a large pile of garishly pink valentines dropping in front of Harry (at least three of which were singing in annoying, falsetto voices). Ginny giggled at the disgusted look on Harry's face while studiously ignoring the glaring fact that she had once been one of… _those_ girls.

So filled with embarrassing thoughts of years past, she almost failed to notice the small package that had dropped in front of her.

"What's this?" Looking around and seeing everyone else enveloped within their own Valentine worlds, she inspected the box closer. The box was small, understated, yet unspeakably elegant: it was a deep green colour wrapped with a delicate bow that could only have been tied by the tiny hands of house elves.

Feeling almost timid, she drew the ribbon open and pulled off the top of the box, rather stunned that her vehement promises to castrate anyone who dared send her a Valentine had gone unheeded.

At first glance towards the box she saw parchment and a… rock. How utterly romantic. She couldn't wait to hear the justification for this.

_Weasley-_

_I wish you a most auspicious Valentine's Day, knowing full well that you enjoy it as much as I enjoy watching your dear brother Ronald Weasley talk to you with his mouth full. And now I've that utterly romantic vision in your head, I'd like to present your first gift, undoubtedly your only one today._

_Something ripped out of the ground and that dies quickly isn't a proper token of appreciation. All men who do this are merely roped in by the inane commercialism of this damn "holiday." So, instead of useless flowers, let me bestow upon you something that may last a bit longer._

She fingered the small bit of stone, shaped like a… a lion, she supposed. An unconscious grin crossed her face as she continued to read:

_One of your damned Gryffindor lions made of Tiger Eye, cleverly enough, that helps for clarity of mind-- an asset that you already seem to think you posses in abundance. Perhaps with this token of my grudging appreciation, you may actually figure out what common sense is._

_Yours._

She couldn't help but grin despite herself. The insults seemed innocuous enough, and it was Valentine's Day after all-- anything that didn't declare undying love for something else was okay in her book. She approved of her admirer, though the whole business of anonymity was rather vexing.

So she compiled a mental list, a habit that was an unfortunate byproduct of spending much of her summer with the obsessive compulsive Hermione Jane Granger.

_**The List**_(it began)

_1. Her admirer _(as she had taken to calling him) _had atrocious handwriting._

_2. He kept insulting her, but it seemed almost teasingly._

_3. He didn't seem to particularly like Valentine's Day._

_4. He gave me--_

She halted the list abruptly with another flash of Hermione Granger-like brilliance and, excusing herself from the din of the breakfast, rushed toward the library in a fit of inspiration. She burst in breathing heavily-- earning a glare from Madame Pince ("You'll get the books mouldy!")-- and headed toward the _Elemental_ section.

Crouching down (and wincing as her knees popped several times on the way down), she began to scan for the book that would decode her gift. After a short time of searching she came upon What's it Mean: The Hidden Meaning of Gemstones, by Alexis Amerindea.

Shifting through the pages she quickly came across the pertinent article:

"_**Tiger Eye **(also known as Cat's Eye, Falcon's Eye or Hawk's Eye) is a stone for the mind, not the body. This is a powerful stone and must be used carefully. Tiger's-eye has the power to focus the mind. It will cause the mind to have feeling of oneness and feel more direct in all thoughts. It makes one aware of one's own needs related to the needs of others."_

She also found, stuck between the pages of the book, a small piece of parchment that read "_You're too smart for your own damn good, Weasley."_

She laughed loudly, earning a reprimanding gaze from Madame Pince for the second time in the past five minutes.

-----

Surprisingly (but not unpleasantly so), three more of these strange gifts came in quick succession, all waiting on her desk in the beginning of Transfiguration, History of Magic, and Charms, respectively.

For Transfiguration she found a small ring adorned with an unassuming glittering red stone that magically adjusted to fit her finger perfectly.

_Weasley-_

_This beautiful stone is a garnet gem. So I can stop your rushing back and forth to the library all day (and what a shock that is), I'll just explain the meaning here. Garnet, if put under your pillow, can help cure depression, which would happen quite often to me if I had to spend time around the people you deign to call friends. It also helps boost popularity and self-esteem, which will undoubtedly be useful to you (at least the popularity bit-- that needs quite a bit of work; your ego needs no more prodding). However, most importantly this stone brings constancy to friendship, which is not _precisely_ what I desire of you, but it's a start._

_Yours._

_5. He obviously dislikes the company I keep._

More information gathered, and she was leaning more and more against the idea that her admirer was someone that her brothers would approve of. And she liked that.

-----

Next came a gorgeous green pendant in the shape of a unicorn, waiting for her as she arrived to History of Magic.

_Weasley-_

_This pendant (of unakite, obviously), while being very fetching for one thing, also lifts your spirits when you're feeling down. I thought it was only proper that I ought to give it to you now, since I know first hand how downtrodden I feel after History of Magic. Though knowing your habits, I'm fairly sure you'll be asleep the whole class and ignoring any sort of knowledge._

_Yours._

_7. I KNOW his handwriting. But from where…?_

It was always signed with the same simple 'yours,' and while the handwriting looked painfully familiar, she simply could not place it. It was certainly not Ron or Harry's or even Colin's, but it had already been made fairly clear that her admirer was not a Gryffindor.

Sighing, she abandoned her quill (why bother even pretending she was going to pay attention) and looked about the classroom. Ruling out any Gryffindors, that left… Slytherins. Well, that was fairly easy as well.

_But_, as she considered, she rather hoped it was a seventh year. Her sixth year class was severely lacking in anyone attractive, other than a quiet Ravensclaw that was either named George or Jacob. And dating the little titchy midgets below her just felt too inherently perverse even for her tastes.

Sighing at the pure tedium of life at Hogwarts, she returned to her list:

_8. He thinks I'm unpopular! (Obviously delusional.)_

_9. He seems to think he _knows_ me…_

_-----_

After a long and tormented History of Magic, she reached her last class of the day: Charms, thankfully filled with Hufflepuffs that she would easily dismiss from her potential list of lovers. She was almost positive that she would never meet a Hufflepuff that would ridicule her in such a way as her admirer had been doing.

_Weasley-_

_It is said that if you give your lover a moonstone necklace like this then you will always have passion with the other. While my cynical mind doubts this, it's a nice thought, so here it is. Moonstone is also said to be able to reunite lovers who have quarreled, and while we haven't explicitly quarreled (at least not in such a way glaringly obvious to the public), and we certainly aren't lovers, I find it close enough to our predicament that it is relevant._

_Oh, I expect you to be wearing this tonight when you meet me in the Room of Requirement at eight. Don't be late._

_Yours._

That was a rather abrupt way to _order_ her to meet him tonight, but how could she refuse? Ginny could never resist a challenge and the letter was an outright dare if she ever saw one…

And that was how Ginevra Molly Weasley found herself standing in front of the Room of Requirements at 7:59, wearing a black dress that, when being truthful with herself, could only be described as "whorish." However, knowing Ron would go into conniptions if he ever saw her in it (and not to mention how good her legs looked in it) was more than enough incentive to wear it.

_10. Her admirer had the ability to make her nervous, even though she had no idea who it was._

Sighing and banishing 'The List' from her mind she stepped forward and slowly walked through the door, hardly teetering on her heels.

_Thank Merlin for years of Ministry functions._

Pulling herself from her thoughts and surveying her situation, she grinned at the understated elegance of the room and thanked Merlin that there was nothing over the top about the situation. The only furniture in the room was a delicate crimson loveseat and matching end table, the latter adorned only with two champagne glasses and a bottle of what appeared to be red wine.

"This is a Nephrite Jade Pendant." The voice startled her out of her thoughts, her admirer obviously tired of the attention lavished on the furniture. "Ah, no no, Weasley," the voice admonished as she tried to turn around but found, with a rush of excitement that flushed through her veins, that a pair of strong hands had her pinned to a very strong, lean body.

She shivered in anticipation as he yanked the length of her curly red hair out of the way so he could close the clasp on the beautiful necklace. "Now, jade is used to attract love, and I figure I can use all the help I can get in this enterprise."

"I would think so," she muttered casually, almost feeling the smirk growing behind her.

"And it's good that I brought it , as you so foolishly denied my request to wear the other necklace. I suppose," his voice had dropped to a casual, deadly tone, "that you'll have to be punished."

Without warning she was spun around and pushed roughly until her backbone ground painfully against the stone of the wall, his entire body pressing against hers until she was unable to move. She smiled slyly at the boy towering over her as he gripped her chin painfully and lifted it higher, exposing the length of her creamy neck.

"I wouldn't have taken you for a masochist, Weasley."

"I wouldn't have taken you for a filthy little blood traitor lover, so I guess we're both surprised, yes?"

"Fuck you," he breathed, his teeth tantalizingly close to her exposed neck, though she didn't miss the soft chuckle underneath the growl. She knew she had felt inexplicably drawn to him all those times for a good reason.

"The same to you."

And with that he was upon her, his lips crushing her and almost certainly drawing blood, his hot breath nearly scalding her skin when they came up for air.

"Take advantage of innocent Gryffindors often, I guess," Ginny managed to gasp out.

"No, only you. Don't you feel special?"

"Quite."

And suddenly all of their muttered death threats, none too subtle shoving in the halls, deliberate sabotaging of essays… It all made sense in the strange perverted way that this _situation_ gave Valentine's Day and all of it's gooey filling the big _fuck you _that Ginny had been searching for.

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A/N: Well I hope you all enjoyed that little fic & my little mystery man (it's pretty obvious who it is, though. Right?). I rather had fun writing it because (as you may be able to tell) I'm not a big fan of Valentine's Day. Perhaps it's just because I'm not a fan of long term relationships, or just the fact that the colour pink makes me want to vomit, but I just can't get into it.

Anyway. Here it is… Love it or hate it, drop me a line. Thanks! (And don't foget to check out my multi-chapter story Division. I almost guarantee you'll sort of like it. And that's a promise!)


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